Page 97 of Free to Judge

No movement from inside.

I try ringing the bell, pressing my face up against her doorbell camera.

Nothing. Not a sound.

I try the handle. Try to slam my shoulder against the door. It won’t budge. All the locks have been engaged. That’s when it comes to me. The house is merely reflecting the owner’s wishes.

Both are rejecting me.

My heart trembles in my chest. No. This can’t be the way we end. “It’s not possible.”

A sick, hollow feeling rips through my gut at the thought, but I don’t give it a chance to slow me down. I race around to the backyard like I have every other time I’ve snuck in through the back slider. When Kalie would be waiting on her couch drinking a glass of wine or tea after a long day.

Not tonight.

Tonight, everything is sealed tight. I try to jimmy open the sliders, only to glance down and find metal bars bracing the doors closed. Keeping the threats out.

Including me.

I stumble backward, hope diminishing every second inside me.

That’s when I spot it.

Yes! There’s a single light on inside on the second floor! She must be home! Deciding that making a spectacle of myself is absolutely justified in this instance, I race back around to the front. Leaping up to the porch, I shimmy up the Craftsman columns, not caring if the cops are called on me. Hell, at this point, my actions will just give me credence to the damn motherfuckers I still technically work for.

But when I get close enough to spy in her bedroom window, I fall to my knees against the roof. The room looks like a hurricane tore through it. Clothes are tossed every which way. “No,” the moan escapes my mouth.

Crawling on my hands and knees to the next set of windows, I peek into her office. Her computer’s gone. So’s her favorite photo—the one of her family.

Part of me feels relief—she wasn’t taken. The other part of me feels absolute fear. Where is she? It’s obvious she’s planning on leaving and taking her most cherished item—her family.

But she intends on leaving me behind.

“No! Kalie, no! Come on, firebrand! Please, please, let me in!” I sob. My hand hits the side of the window so hard I know I’m rattling the frame. My brain is calculating everything that happened at warp speed. I shout, “Please, trust me. It’s not what you think!”

Nothing. No sound. No footsteps. No sign she’s even there to listen—or that anyone is other than the agents below.

Terror coils tight in my chest.

Where is she? What is she doing? Is she barricaded alone in there, heart breaking because of a cover? Doesn’t she understand?

“Don’t judge me by those photos,” I choke out. “Don’t—don’t judge us by one fucking lie. You know me better than that. Please, firebrand.”

Still nothing.

I slide down from the extended roofline and make my way around the side of the house. I try every door and window again, praying for a miracle. Denied. Kitchen door—deadbolt. A peek in the window shows the alarm set. Any attempt to break in will trigger a massive onslaught arriving from Hudson’s security team beyond the two in the driveway.

Running around to the garage places me directly in front of the agent’s car. I bend down and try to lift the white door.

Nothing budges.

The two men step out of the car and watch. One blatantly has his camera out and is filming me.

I don’t care.

Let Keene, Caleb, Jon, who the fuck ever get the show of their life. All I want is a chance to talk to Kalie face-to-face.

I continue to call Kalie’s name until my throat turns raw, until my heart feels bruised from over exertion. I can’t think properly. I know I’m not able to breathe properly. The one thing I know for certain is every second I can’t give her a full explanation, I’m losing her. The second thing I know is there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do to stop it.